


Sensual

by silentflux



Series: A Day in the Life [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: 60damnprompts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-09
Updated: 2007-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentflux/pseuds/silentflux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles missed it…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensual

_**FIC: Sensual, BtVS, Giles, FRT**_  
Title: Sensual

Author: Andrea/[](http://silentflux.livejournal.com/profile)[ **silentflux**](http://silentflux.livejournal.com/)

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Character: Rupert Giles

Rating: FRT

A/N: This is for my claim for Giles at [](http://community.livejournal.com/60damnprompts/profile)[**60damnprompts**](http://community.livejournal.com/60damnprompts/) which catalogues 60 days in the life of a character. Prompt - Day #1: Mail

Summary: Giles missed it…

  
~ * ~ * ~

Giles sighed as he heard the dull tone from his computer announcing that he had another email. He missed the post. A lot. No matter the benefits of almost instantaneous communication, he stood firm in his belief the written physical documentation was best – actually helping him to absorb the information more readily. But Willow had insisted on setting up some kind of worldwide network with email addresses and some of the older texts. All of the texts were, of course, thoroughly reviewed before being scanned in. One monster in the computer at Sunnydale High had been enough.

He had to admit that the girl - no, woman had done a remarkable job with the organization of all things technical and mundane. Geeky, as Xander would say. Unfortunately – or luckily, depending on the day – most of the Scoobies, as Giles found himself referring to them even though he hated that vernacular, were off in all parts of the world. Split up in their work. With another loud sigh, the Head of the New Council of Slayers and Watchers (and not a few demons) turned to actually look at the infernal machine. Stupid lump of plastic and metal parts taking up space on _his_ mahogany desk. He glared at it before he swiped his finger through the biometric pad several times before the stupid screen flashed to life.

An email from Xander who was on his way back from Africa was waiting for him. With no little trepidation, Giles deftly opened the innocuous looking message. Just another one of those odd chainletters that Giles outwardly loathed even when his eyes began to sparkle with amusement at the very off-color jokes. Xander definitely hadn't lost his touch in that arena.

The workday was almost done. With Andrew off doing God knows what, Giles was thankfully without the constant babble. Without which, he could hear the muffled noises of the others moving about his wing of the building, the clank of the cantankerous furnace as it sent heat from the boilers. And of course, the clocks ticking. Why the hell did he need so many clocks in his office anyway? It was like Buffy had a timepiece obsession, bringing him one from every country she visited. Sighing, Giles quickly reined in his thoughts as he realized he was babbling. Dear Lord, the Sunnydale condition was contagious!

"And on that cheerful note," Giles told his ridiculously smug computer, "I'm going home." He often did stay the night at the headquarters as he had private rooms in the residential side of the massive complex. Many of the Slayers and Watchers stayed there. But tonight he was escaping - as much as he loved this place, he wanted the comforts of _home_. Someplace to relax.

Leaving a quick note on Andrew's desk, he pulled on his coat and grabbed his briefcase, the hiss of fabric and creak of leather the only sounds that preceded him. Within five minutes, he was sliding into his car. Giles was actually thankful tonight for the solid half hour drive to his house, giving him time to clear his head and unwind with some music.

He arrived at his house much more relaxed and threw the switch as he walked in and locked the door. After settling his keys on their hook, the briefcase on the chair and shrugging out of his coat to hang it up, he headed to the kitchen.

Flipping on the stereo, he pulled open the fridge to see what was to be had. Smiling and humming to himself, pulling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he set about the task of dinner. The lull of quiet domesticity, the beat of the music, the mess that he made on the counters, it all settled into his bones and washed away his agitation and weariness. If only for tonight, being home was one way to wipe away everything. The food lingered on his hands and the enticing aromas wrapped around him, brushing away the last vestiges of the day.

Later, in the flat darkness of night, he slept among soft sheets and heavy blankets, and only woke twice, his heart pounding in his ears, body trembling with an emotion he'd rather not define. Only twice. Sighing softly after the second dream, he turned on his side, pulled up the covers that slithered and settled on his skin before closing his eyes. Maybe he could find some more peace before another endless day began. The soft hum of his house and the softness of night pushed him back under the Sandman's thrall – surrounded and touched by comfort.


End file.
